


Burning In The Skies

by Froggy_Horntail



Series: 23rd Century Breakdown [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Illustrated, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Substance Abuse, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, it ain't sunshine and rainbows, it's the post-apocalypse kiddos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-25 20:58:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12541068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggy_Horntail/pseuds/Froggy_Horntail
Summary: God save us everyone -Will we burn inside the fires of a thousand sunsFor the sins of our hand, the sins of our tongueThe sins of our father, the sins of our young?All her life, she was told that she was born in a hole, she would die in a hole; her only inevitable fate to be engulfed by the ‘sweet sleep of incineration.'And in a way, she had, though maybe not in the way the doctrines of Vault 101 dictated. Driven out of sanctuary into the mouth of hell, all that she once was ended up being burned away as she ran from place to place in a desperate bid for safety; a terrified rabbit flushed out from one burrow to another. Until her own father barely recognized her. Until she as good as died out in the Capital Wasteland the same day he did. Until it felt like there was nothing real left of her, only legends and nightmares.Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that other crap they used to teach back in the Vault chapel. The Bible was a big hit down there, given it was one of the few things they had to read....then again, the Bible also had one of the best comeback stories in it too, now didn’t it?





	1. Introduction - I Guess I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MomentumDeferred](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentumDeferred/gifts), [AstralOmega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstralOmega/gifts).



> I love Fallout’s characters and universe. I love my OCs and their universe. I needed a project to cut my teeth on with regards to writing SOMETHING of length. So this happened.
> 
> Dedicated to those friends who put up with and indulged my post-apocalyptic sperging (Waifu, Ash and Vicksburg, my Discordian pals who know damn well who they are) even when it took a backseat to several other life crises, to DB and Waifu for putting up with my wordvomit to edit and beta this for me, and to mom, who doesn't understand any of this but believed in me anyway. Y’all motherfuckers the real MVPs.
> 
> Read, review, and enjoy.

* * *

Sleep should have been easy to come by.

Even with its few intact electric signs and strings of dusty lights stretched between the stacks of tin shack buildings; Megaton was still pretty dark at night. Warm too, despite the windows thrown open wide to try and catch even a whisper of a ghost of a breeze.

Deeper within the settlement proper, a steady susurrus bounced and echoed off the jagged metal walls. Depending on which direction one chose to listen, individual sounds that made up the din could be picked out - towards the main gate, the distinct crack of a sniper's gunshot; probably Stockholm taking aim at some scouts from the Springvale Elementary giant ant colony again. Topside, swearing and shouts from the drunks patronizing Moriarty's. And undercutting it all was the desperate chugging hum of Walter's ancient purifier, still refusing to give up the ghost.

These were all things she was long used to, though. In fact at this point they were practically soothing in their familiarity. No different from the soft whir of Wadsworth's hoverjets as he made his rounds, or Dogmeat's padding into the kitchen for a nighttime drink.

So.

Why in the _radioactive green **fuck**_ couldn't she sleep?

She rolled over on her mattress with a creak of decrepit springs. Tawny eyes screwed up as they adjusted to the sudden burst of pale green light; the boot-up of her Pip-Boy from sleep mode just to check the time displayed above the device's GPS map.

**_ >2:47 AM _ **

She huffed in frustration before she clicked it back off, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes as they burned with exhaustion.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

She did not need this. She was tired. BONE tired. She had shit to do in the morning. The EARLY morning. But it was going to be a bad night, she just knew it.

Still, her dad had raised no quitter, and her head thumped determinedly back against the lump that had the audacity to call itself a pillow. Even if all she could do was trace her gaze along the patterns of welding seals and rivets on the dark corrugated metal.

Not for the first time (and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last), Peri’s thoughts drifted as she fought against her own fractious mind to try and rest; wandering off somewhere into a haze that bordered just on this side of consciousness. Every now and then, something substantial would float up from the limbic murk to try and latch on and pull her back down with it for a while. Memories, fears, dwelled-upon poor life choices. Nothing unusual there, just the usual bevy of psychological traumas that came with hard drinking and the post-apocalyptic lifestyle. They didn’t really need much to claw their way to the forefront of her mind and forcibly drag her out of reality for a while - a single word, a particular touch, a smell that was just a little too familiar; and suddenly, there'd be tears watering down the already shitty whiskey she drank. Or, like now, she'd end up monotously counting metal fixtures on the ceiling at 2:47 in the goddamn morning.

Thankfully at this late point in the game, these little mental breakdowns, flashbacks, whatever you wanted to call them...they were more of a temporary setback than the miserable ruination and waste of an entire day. Which was some comfort, she supposed. It meant she could keep going, do what she had to do for herself and the others she aided once she got through the bad spell.

They were kinda like mirelurks, in that regard. Not the people she tried to help (though she'd met her fair share of questionably inbred folks who could certainly pass for distant relatives of the species), but rather the memories that plagued her. The way they infested the darker, more dank corners of the brain. Noisy. Ugly as sin. Sometimes led by a particularly tough and nasty alpha-king-lakelurk type. And just like mirelurks, they weren't necessarily dangerous so much as a nuisance. Even if it was a bad infestation, the kind you couldn’t clear out completely...you could still deal with it, usually. Long as you were diligent and stayed on top of it.

Hadn’t always been that easy, though. Took a lot of falling to pieces before she figured out how to pick up the ones that weren’t completely fucked and glue them all back together, in order to get up and keep running from the much realer day-to-day shit that often tried to chase a body down out in the wasteland. Being careless and letting the memories ambush and gang up on her to drag her down into her own head was a good way to get ripped to pieces. Literally and figuratively.

They were certainly no help when it came to fixing shit given they were the ones who broke everything in the first place, but it's not like she was any better. She would rather lie to herself and everyone else, deny that anything was wrong with her. When that didn't work, she'd crawl back and forth between the inside of a bottle and the sheets of some bastard's bed.

Still, while there were bad nights like tonight, she hadn't had one of that particular magnitude in a while, though. And that gave her hope...even though hope just might just be the one thing out here more dangerous than a whole nestful of actual mirelurks armed with frag grenades.

Just when she thought she might have staved off the worst of it and was going to be able to grab an hour or two, something tight seized her like a pincer at her throat, and images started rising up behind her closed eyes unbidden; voices echoing distantly. Oh joy. The ghosts might have been later than usual, but god forbid they miss an opportunity to crowd their way into her skull.

_No, no, by all means. Make yourselves at home, like things aren’t crazy and cluttered enough in there already. Lay some more eggs and hatch more of you, I'm sure you can find unoccupied space somewhere. Oh I see you brought your king buddy tonight, that's great. Gonna scream at me how everything is my fault again?_

...jackasses. At least a flesh and blood mirelurk could be shot at to get rid of it. Extended metaphors, not so much.

_"You never notice how much you take for granted until you suddenly lose everything you have."_

And despite having any and all manner of horrible things for her to recall, of course it was the fucking Overseer’s voice that rose above the din. It was like being right back in the atrium for an assembly.

Even worse, out of all the subtly threatening platitudes that had been meant to keep the residents of Vault 101 complacent and in-line, this was the only one Peri knew to have some actual truth behind it.

_"Your father never took that lesson to heart. Neither did those fools in the lab. And sure enough, look what it cost them. Look what their choices cost everyone in the Vault!"_

True or not though, it had still taken her a long time to realize it. Even longer to actually accept it. Old Alphonse’s bullshit was a hard pill to swallow. Worse than the ones he made Uncle James dole out like candy to residents with VDS.

_"And do you even care? No. No you don’t. Because you’re no different than they were - you’ve always been hardheaded! Impudent! An_ **_instigator!_ ** _"_

When she finally did accept it, it hadn't been a gradual thing; something she could ease into. It hit suddenly and without warning; all the tact of a double-barrelled brahmin kick to the head. Hurt almost as bad, too.

_"I always knew you were trouble. Always knew it was a mistake to trust any of you…"_

Epiphanies could be a bitch and a half like that. Especially the kind that came from people you hated with every fiber of your being.

_"Unlike your traitorous father and his idealistic companions, though...this is a lesson I will make sure you and everyone else learns."_

She shouldn’t have been surprised. The event that had kicked off this whole insane way of life she now considered normal, the kind of life that forced her to treat her mental demons like another enemy so she could cope with them; where survival was a luxury and not a right…

...it’d happened so suddenly and dramatically, sometimes it still felt like it was just yesterday when she was sleeping safely with her father in a metal box under the ground, without any of these problems at all.

_"Even if I must get it through to you...the hard way."_

Peri sighed.

So much for sleep tonight.


	2. Chapter 1 - Nobody Puts Baby In A Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lone Wanderer sets herself up for trouble, even at an infantile age...

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

“I still don’t understand, she should be walking by now...”

“Oh god, don’t tell me you’re on that milestone nonsense _again_ , Harmon.”

A Vault 101 security officer lay sprawled across a well-worn couch; still in uniform; his booted feet propped up on one of the raggedy arms. He watched in amusement as his companion ( _‘Vault Physician - James Harmon’_ as his labcoat’s ID badge denoted, just above a breast pocket) crouched on the living quarters’ den floor, and attempted to get the attention of the two infants that sat in the makeshift baby pen just across from them.

The children, a boy and a girl (not that one could really tell much difference at their age; especially when both wore the same Vault-Tec issue baby blue and caution yellow onesies), mostly ignored the good doctor. They appeared far more interested in trying to reach the rocketship mobile that hung above the corner crib in their playpen, and the smaller of the two had managed to climb on top of a chair; gripping the back of it with tiny fingers as he looked up intently. While the other sat on the floor, and possibly babbled some kind of encouragement.

James rolled his eyes at the other father’s dismissiveness. “Michael’s already taken his first steps, Cliff, and he’s a year younger than she is, as you well know…”

Cliff (specifically, aforementioned _Officer Cliff Nereus_ , as the ID pinned to his own vest declared) merely shrugged as he pulled his riot helmet off, placing it on the nearby table as he ran a hand back through his dark brown hair and caused it to stick up more than it did already.

“Hey, way I see it, your kid’s an exception to the milestone rule. He’s got your ‘advanced’ genes, so of course he’d already be walking!”

The boy on the chair turned and looked towards the two adults; frowning slightly as he recognized his name and seemed to possess some awareness he was being talked about. Which, frankly, only renewed James’ efforts - if one could call trying to coax a baby and scold a grown man in the same breath an effort, anyway.

“I’m just worried about her - come on, Michael, you can do it, come to daddy and show your little friend what to do - and frankly, I’m more surprised you aren’t!”

Cliff just waved a hand flippantly; both at James’ words, and as his daughter gave a loud squawk of protest when Michael clearly decided to abandon whatever plan they’d cooked up in their developing little brains; in order to clamber down off the chair and take a few clumsy steps in the direction of the Vault physician.

“Oh, you always worry too much. She’s just stubborn like her old man, I’m sure she’ll walk in her own good time. Hell, for all we know, she could’ve been walkin’ before now and we just haven’t noticed. Half the time we’re not even here.”

“I told you not to swear in front of the kids. And you know very well that’s not how it works, and even if it did, surely Miss Palmer would have noticed, all those times she’s babysat them-”

Just as he was surely about to launch into another lecture, Michael tottered forward enough to flop into his father’s outstretched arms with a concerned warble. It provided an excellent diversion, as did the the crackle of static bursting from the intercom up on the den’s wall that had, up until that moment, been piping in rather jazzy muzak. Followed by a distinctly younger and rather nervous-sounding voice.

 _“Uh, doc-...er, I mean, Doctor Harmon? I really hate to interrupt the breaktime, but we need you down here in the infirmary. And-”_ From the background came a thunderous crash, accompanied by a furious storm of slurred cursing; either of which would have been concerning enough on their own...until both were drowned out by a single abstinence-inducing infantile squall, anyway.

The young voice became even more frantic. _“...and could you maybe bring Officer Nereus down too while you’re at it?!”_

The connection cut off after that, returning to music. James tried not to frown as he held Michael, knowing the kids picked up on negativity so easily, but the worry was clear in the lines of his furrowed brow. “Poor Jonas. I thought for sure things would be slower than usual and he could handle the clinic by himself today…”

Cliff sighed, heaving himself up off the couch before he quickly crossed the floor to re-corral his daughter, who had been steadily crawling after her friend once he’d left her behind. Walking or not, the girl was a fast one.

“Slow your roll there, sweetie - why don’t you go get your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. book and have your little smartypants buddy Michael get a head start on teaching you to read? And then when I come back we can have a nice long talk about what you learned.”

He bumped her nose with a wagging finger, getting a delighted sort of cackle and a fine dripping of drool in response. “And yeah, civic duty never seems to stop callin’, now does it? Kid seems a good intern, though. I’m sure he’ll be able to handle this kind’ve thing on his own with a little more practice.”

“I do hope you’re right.” With only a slight complaint from his knees as he straightened, James carried the other child back to the playpen as well, setting him down and quickly latching the gate shut once he did. “Now, Michael, I know you don't like it when daddy leaves you alone, but I need you to take care of yourself for a minute, okay?”

The wibbling lip, precursor to an upcoming tantrum, indicated exactly what the boy thought of that.

“...ah...now, now, you just stay here while daddy runs to his office...you'll be okay, and Uncle Cliff and I will be back in a bit, I promise.”

The security officer snorted, before shaking his head. ”Amazing. Kid’s not even a year old yet and already you’re bargaining with him.”

“I’d like to point out you did the same thing just last week while trying to get yours to eat something vegetable-related instead of flinging it back in your face.”

“...look, she got me right in the eye, and pureed sweet and sour pork burns like hell. You’d’ve been bargaining with her too. And I still have no idea where she learned to aim like that.”

“Oh, of course, not a single idea at all.” James replied dryly while he fiddled with his Pip-Boy, keying into the infirmary intercom’s frequency. “Jonas, we’re on our way. You still need our help?”

Once again, from within the background, came more of those concerning sounds. This time it was the prim and tinny accent of the Vault’s Mister Handy assistant Andy as he attempted to make himself heard over another baby’s shriek. _“Please, madam, there’s no need for all this hostility, I am merely trying to take a samp-...”_ More swearing, and a clatter that sounded suspiciously like someone flipping a tray out of the robot’s appendages. _“Madam, please!”_

_“Yeah, if you could get down here sooner rather than later, that’d be great, doc.”_

“Sounds like Ellen DeLoria with another ‘migraine’.” Cliff laughed, nudging James in the ribs. “Think she brought the anklebiter this time to try and win you over?”

“God, it’s not funny, Cliff-” But if anything, he only laughed harder at the face the doctor pulled. “The woman’s intoxicated attempts at seducing me leave...much to be desired. And you just know she takes out her problems on that poor boy of hers. Frankly, I don’t know why the Overseer doesn’t let someone else take him in…”

“‘Cause good ol’ Almodovar is a control freak, that’s why. And it’s not my fault you’re such a ladykiller, y’know if that Beatrice wasn’t so...out there, I bet she’d be trying to offer you free ‘palm readings’ too.”

“Cliff, please. Really, I blame myself for not being more firm with her-...oh for god’s sake, _will you stop laughing?!”_

“When you set yourself up like that? Absolutely not. And at any rate, I blame that accent. It clearly makes you seem charming.” He slapped James on the back, grinning.

A gloved thumb jabbed the OPEN button on the pneumatic door controls, making the wall of metal sweep upwards into its recessed seal as the other man sighed wearily. “It’s just-...it’s too soon after Catherine, you know?”

That finally knocked the smile off Cliff’s face. “Yeah...yeah, I get what you mean. Listen, if someone down here does get too handsy for you to handle - and god knows they probably will, because how often does a handsome widower doctor with an Irish brogue come around? - you let me know, alright? I’ll let you borrow my baton so you can literally beat them off with a stick.”

James managed a weak laugh at that. “The offer is...appreciated, really it is, but let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

Their conversation trailed out into the hallway, until the door came swooping back down behind them to cut the apartment off from the rest of the Vault once again. Leaving only the soft muzak and overhead buzz of the Solar-Sim fluorescent lights to resume filling the quieted living space.

Michael was already sniffling, and big tears started to pour down his face at his being ‘abandoned’ by his father; even if it was only temporary and not forever like his mind perceived. But for Peri (although she would not come to know herself by that name for a few more years yet), her expression was the closest thing to determination that a child who didn’t even know the meaning of the word managed to muster.

Her eyes; the same whiskey brown as her own father’s; were fixated on what he’d left behind in his rush to leave for the clinic, just beyond the baby gate that kept them both contained.

His Vault-Tec Security standard issue riot helmet, still sitting on the table where he’d taken it off.

With its shiny, _so shiny_ faceplate, yankable chinstraps, and those knobbly bits that went over the ears that were just dying to be put to the test of her soon-to-be-budding teeth, Peri had been coveting that helmet for a very long time. Well, long for someone whose average attention span was still about thirty seconds, anyway.

Always it had been out of her reach when Cliff came home, put up on a shelf somewhere, or in a room whose door she was not capable of opening (and not for lack of trying). Last week’s fuss with the spitshot of food to the eye had been her way of trying to voice her frustrations with him and his continued denial of the item she wanted.

...and also because he should have known better than to give her sweet and sour pork - it always made her break out in a rash.

She’d been hoping Michael would help her get the helmet - hence their practice with the chair and the mobile - but it seemed he was far too loyal to his own daddy to follow through.

But that was okay. Opportunity had finally presented itself after all. For her father had been more right than he’d thought - she was stubborn like him, through and through, and she had indeed figured out this walking thing quite some time ago. However, walking was hard. It took a great deal more effort than she wanted to expend, and it was much simpler just to crawl or wait for an adult to pick her up and haul her somewhere instead.

To get the prize she sought, though...well, she supposed she was willing to put in the work this time.

Small feet trapped in the flame-retardant fabric of her onesie kicked out a bit before Peri managed to get some traction, and she half-scooted; half-rose up on wobbly legs. Ambling over to the side of the playpen, fingers grabbed onto the rail for support to keep from falling as she shuffled along the panel’s side until she reached the gate itself; and began tugging at the latch holding it closed.

And tugging.

And...tugging.

...

The gate wouldn’t budge.

A frustrated wail rose up as she couldn’t get it open, but merely rattle the metal mesh ineffectually. Damn Uncle James! The man was clearly too smart for his own good, of course he would have foreseen they might plan a jailbreak at some point and made the lock too sturdy for either of them to undo. And while the chair that they’d been practicing with was tall enough that it could possibly be used to climb over the pen; it was still too heavy for her to move by herself. Maybe Michael would be more willing to help if he saw it as a chance to get back to his father, surely both of them together could-...

...wait. _Of course_. She was going about this all wrong.

Just as quickly as she’d risen up, Peri flopped right back down onto the worn carpet; starting to hiccup with big theatrical sobs. It was a trick that had worked on plenty of other adults in the Vault when she wanted something from them, be it an actual item or just some attention. Only her father had shown an immunity to it, and that was to be expected - he could tell what each of her cries meant from the moment they left her lungs.

However, more importantly, it was a trick that _did_ work on Michael.

Sure enough, the younger boy abruptly stopped his own crying and scurried over to where she was sitting; hands pushing gingerly against her mouth and face to try and shush-soothe her as he let out a bunch of snuffly gurgles and whimpers.

Peri put up with the awkward handling, because the longer she did and the longer she cried the closer he got to her to try and quiet her out of concern.

And the closer he got to the side of the playpen.

Just when it seemed like he was about to resort to shoving his hands *in* her mouth to try and stop the sobbing; he was finally close enough for her liking, and with a stunning amount of speed she was back up on her feet. The sudden movement caused Michael to fall forward onto his hands and knees in surprise; blinking slowly as he tried to process the fact that she was no longer in front of him.

Not that he had much time to do that, because soon she was using his perfect position to climb up on top of him like some kind of human footstool. Now HE was the one making upset noises - something between a protesting yell and angry snarl.

Peri paid no mind to Michael’s yarling, however, and instead focused on trying to heave herself up and over the baby gate. With the new boost in the form of her companion, her stubby arms could actually reach and fit over the railing of the playpen; even if her feet windmilled a bit as she huffed and pulled with every muscle in her little body. Finally she managed to heave herself over the side of the barrier, tumbling in an almost-somersault to land on the threadbare carpet with a soft flump as her fall was cushioned by the padded bottom of her Vault suit.

Though Michael’s shouts started intensifying with her escape, she refused to be deterred. Dad and Uncle James could be back at any moment; doubly so with him making enough noise fit to wake the neighbors, so she had to act fast.

With all the grace of the oft-inebriated Ms. DeLoria (who was hopefully still keeping both men occupied down in the infirmary), she made her staggering way over to the living room table. Leaning against the curved edge of faux-wood, she reached for the riot helmet with eager and grabby hands.

She couldn’t quite get a grip on the headgear itself, but she did manage to get ahold of one of the fastening straps; yanking on it hard enough that she stumbled backwards with the effort.

And after that, everything was muffled darkness.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

Cliff was wandering back down the hall with James, frowning at a bandage wrapped around his wrist.

“I’m telling you, it’s going to get infected.”

James didn’t even look up from the clipboard he was scribbling notes on. “You’re being overdramatic.”

As it turned out, Ellen DeLoria HAD had a good reason to be in the infirmary, sort of. Her son Butch (that choice of name had raised some eyebrows, but everyone in the Vault knew it was better not to ask questions) had just started teething, and the pain of his first erupting tooth was making him colicky. To the point that not even the numbing effect of Ellen’s whiskey stash could quiet him or soothe the woman trying to drown him out. To the point that both had shown up in search of something a little more medically potent to deal with their respective headaches.

“No, I’m being just dramatic enough, can all your fancy doctor’s education treat gangrene? What if my hand rots off because of some kind’ve...I don’t know, staph or mersa or whatever the hell it’s called?”

“He only had one tooth, Cliff, honestly now, what harm could young Butch do to you through your security glove?”

“Not that one. I was talkin’ about the _other_ bitemark left by the _other_ DeLoria, Harmon.”

That being said, the combination of upset infant and belligerently hungover woman (who demanded that Butch be seen to by James - and _only_ James) had proven too much for one young medical intern and service robot to handle. Which had led to the emergency intercom call down to the two men...

...which had led to some very minor violence, mostly at Cliff’s expense. He had tried to drag Ellen bodily away from a distressed Andy after having jabbed a pair of forceps into one of his tracking sensors. Since she had left her only weapon in the Mister Handy, she then resorted to the next best thing to get him off of her as well - her own teeth.

“Oh...right, that one. Ah. Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine if you keep it clean.”

“Gee, how goddamn helpful.” He snorts. “I want a second opinion.”

“Cliff, you and I both know for a fact you have shrugged off far worse than that.”

“Still doesn’t mean I *like* it, Harmon.”

They lapsed into silence save for the echoing of their boots through the metal hall; whereupon reaching their quarters again, James began keying in the unlock code on the control pad.

“...I still can’t believe she fucking bit me.”

“I admit, I can’t either. I didn’t think Ellen would take your restraining of her so personally.”

“Yeah, probably ‘cause it was me and not you manhandling her. She was a lot less hostile once you started your sweet talkin’, after all.”

“Oh, please, I was not _sweet talking_ her. I was simply trying to calm her down. Frankly, if you hadn’t gotten physical with her she might not have escalated to the biting at all, in fact.”

“Hey, it was either restrain her so that you could examine her kid, or listen to Stanley AND the Overseer bitch at us over Andy getting damaged further. If anything, I should be fucking thanked instead’ve lectured, y’know if it was that shithead Officer Wolfe who’d been there, he’d have given her a goddamn concussion-”

James merely sighed. The security officer often ran his mouth when he got riled up, which only tended to get them both in trouble. As such, he really did not desire to continue engaging him until he calmed down again.

Thankfully, more pressing matters revealed themselves so he didn’t have to. Eyes wide, James quickly discarded his chart on the table to pick up his distraught son from within the playpen. “Michael? Shh, shhh, it’s okay, daddy’s here...what’s wrong, son?”

“Could be separation anxiety. Y’know, Herman Gomez said his kid Freddie’s been the same way as of late...maybe it’s a Vault kid thing? Given that everyone’s so tightly packed in here and all-”

The physician suddenly went rigid as a board, pausing in his attempts at comforting the crying boy. “Cliff?”

“Hm?” The other hardly glanced up, still fiddling with the bandage on his wrist.

“...where’s your daughter?”

“The hell d’you mean ‘where?’ I left her right there...in...the-...” Cliff trailed off as he did a quick survey of the playpen and realized they were one shrieking child short of a full deafening.

“Shit. **_Shit!_ ** ”

James didn’t even bother to tell the other father off for his language for once. “Okay, don’t-...don’t panic. You locked the door behind us when we left, right?”

“Of course I did, Harmon, _I’m not an idiot-_ ”

A thump and tinkling crash sounded from a corner of the room; making both men jump, and Cliff practically scrambled towards the noise. A hand gripped the baton at his hip as he prepared for the worst; a thousand past encounters fueling horrifying scenarios that played out through his head. Maybe a radroach had tunneled its way through the ventilation system and fallen through the ceiling vent, or some desperately childless Vault woman was willing to do _anything_ to be a mommy, or **_god forbid_ ** _,_ some creep was finally acting on a repressed urge, or-...

...or it was none of those things.

The crash: a framed needlepoint had fallen off a small shelf at the back of the room, and the glass in it had shattered.

The culprit: one blindly wandering toddler with his helmet stuck backwards on her head had plowed right into said shelf and knocked it down.

Cliff exhaled a small breath of relief before encircling strong hands around Peri’s middle; scooping her up to prevent her stepping on any of the broken glass shards. “Thank god…” He pulled the helmet off her head with an exasperated smile, and the young girl squinted curiously in the re-revealed light before letting out a hiccupy giggle when she recognized him.

“Jesus, kiddo, y’know you’re gonna drive me to drinkin’ with the DeLoria woman one of these days, right?”

“Dada gib thalema! Graba!”

He just shook his head at her half-incoherent attempts at words. “...uh huh, a likely story.”

James was careful in joining them, taking stock of the minor damage as well. “Thank goodness. Could you imagine what might have happened if she’d gotten out into the rest of the Vault?”

“Don’t start giving her ideas, Harmon. Oh uh, sorry, by the way…” He sheepishly handed over the needlepoint. “It broke when she hit the shelf. I’ll take care of the glass. On the plus side, though, at least this means I was right.”

“It’s a simple fix, don’t worry about it. What do you mean by you were right, though?”

“Well. I said she was walkin’ without us knowing, didn’t I? Think this is proof she’s been playing us like a damn fiddle. How else do you explain her getting out of the playpen, getting my helmet, AND knocking over your little heirloom?”

In the years to come, Peri would quickly learn to imitate the proud smirk on her father's face that he shot in James’ direction, while the other man rolled his eyes.

(She'd also learn to imitate that too; though it wouldn't get used nearly as much until she was a teenager, much to Cliff’s chagrin.)

“...both of you are quite insufferable sometimes, I hope you know that.”

“Hey, I told you she was gonna be a troublemaker like her old man. Not my fault we can’t all have the well-behaved quiet kid like every other parent in the Vault wishes they had.”

Much as James did not want to admit Cliff was right twice in one day, it was technically true. Michael had quieted down already, and reached out curiously to grab at the embroidered spiritual verse his father held in his other hand.

“Well can you at least keep your _troublemaker_ contained until you get the glass cleaned up? Please?”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon kiddo, consider this your timeout.”

Cliff plunked Peri down in the playpen crib, but a quick glance backward to make sure James wasn’t paying attention also had the riot helmet fitted down over her head again - albeit properly facing the front this time. He pressed a finger to his lips and winked at her before he stepped off to get the broom and dustpan from the hall closet.

Satisfied and calmed by being able to look out through the faceplate, she gummed on one of the chinstrap ends while her father set about sweeping up the glass. James had settled onto the floor next to the kids’ shared toybox with Michael on his lap; intending to read to him; except the boy kept trying to squirm away and head over to where the needlepoint had been placed.

“Michael, don’t you want to read your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. book today?”

He tugged on his father’s labcoat insistently before trying to reach for the frame again, and stared up at him with big eyes by way of response.

“Hm...all right, I suppose this still counts as reading too, after all.” Carefully, he reached over and turned it so it was facing them more properly, gesturing to the dark threaded words.

“You see this? It was your mother's favorite passage. It's from the Bible. Revelation 21:6 - ‘I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely.’ She-...always loved that.”

Something wistful crept into his voice, which made Michael coo softly. “Baibwa?"

James laughed. “Yes, the Bible. But you’re still a bit too young to read that book, son.”

“Give it time, who knows, he’ll probably pick up theology faster than you picked up medicine.” Once he’d disposed of the glass, Cliff leaned on the side of the crib; grimacing slightly as Peri attempted to climb out using handfuls of his hair. “While this one’s clearly got an escape artist in her-...ow, _ow_ , kiddo, please-...”

“You know, if they’re getting this restless to the point of breaking their containment, perhaps we should start setting up playdates for them…I mean, the Overseer’s daughter Amata is around their age, too. Having someone else to watch them for a little while couldn’t hurt. After all, I’m sure Jonas' grandmother wouldn’t mind the break.”

“Not a bad idea. Could always ask the old man when I show up for my shift tomorrow morning. What d’you think, kiddo? Wanna spend a day makin’ someone else’s hair go gray?”

Bouncing slightly as she stood in the crib, Peri let out an excited cry; a sound which Michael echoed.

“I’d say the ayes have it, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Props to Waifu for pointing out the tense edits I am still too grammatically colorblind to see, and to a Canadian Momfriend who gave me the inspiration for this chapter based on something her own kids did.
> 
> I swear, this project isn't dead (and it does eventually get a little more exciting/less domestic), just...gimme about a week to crawl out from under Flight Rising's talongrip and current holiday first.


	3. Chapter 2 - Calling All Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A simple drawing sets off a chain reaction of events for Cliff and James...

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

Skip forward a few years, and true to her father’s predictions, Peri refused to be contained easily. Daring breakouts had been made from just about any kind of containment she was put in - playpen, bedroom, office, classroom; it didn’t matter. The girl always found a way out, and she usually involved Michael as her accomplice to boot (or at least, she made sure to bring him with her).

Most of the time, they would use their freedom to explore the many corridors of Vault 101; searching out either James and Jonas at the clinic or Peri’s father while he was on his security rounds. Trying and failing to play a sort of hide-and-seek in the corners and stairwells with him - usually due to barely stifled giggling.

Despite the risk of reprimand from both James and Almodovar, Cliff frequently indulged them in their mischief. After all, they were still too young to be tied down by the Overseer’s work schedules; it only stood to reason they should be able to enjoy what freedom and playtime they had while it lasted.

Besides, at least it made the rounds less boring. Even if they didn’t have the rigorous patrols and round-the-clock surveillance; the fact that they were so sheltered down here meant there wasn’t much in the way of ‘crime’ that ever needed attending to in the Vault. Maybe a bored teenager would pull a juvenile prank, or a drunk who spent all their ration tickets on booze would have to spend a night in the security office’s lockup to sober up, but that was about as ‘wild’ as things got.

Today was different, though. Because today, James was doing annual wellness check-ups for the engineering staff. And the schedule shuffling to compensate for those who would be in the clinic meant Cliff would be covering duties on the reactor level. Which was not a place he wanted either child to try and delve into.

Nevermind the rule that stated it was off-limits to anyone but the pertinent Vault 101 staff - what with the irreplaceable machinery that kept the Vault powered, frequent radroach infestations that persisted despite all attempts at pest control, and the maze of storage and dark corridors that could easily swallow them up for days; the reactor level was not a place the two of them needed to be at their age.

As such, in hopes of deterring any ‘escapes’ today, Peri and Michael had been dropped off at the Overseer’s apartment for a playdate with Amata.

The two of them had really taken a shine to Alphonse’s daughter. And Amata had really come out of her shell, no doubt in part thanks to Michael’s kindness and Peri’s...rather boisterous attitude overriding the Overseer’s more stifling kind of parenthood. In fact, they’d grown close enough in such a short amount of time that Amata was even using that nickname his daughter was insisting everyone call her now.

He smiled faintly. Now if he thought the idea of the kids being on the reactor level had been cause for alarm...hoo boy. That nickname had definitely grown a few gray hairs on him and James overnight.

They had snuck out as per usual, when Peri was four, and gone down to the clinic. Despite James’ constant worries, it *was* a slow day...so he let Jonas play ‘Hunt the Mutant’ with them while he took some inventory.

She’d been hiding under the desk in the clinic office while Jonas (dutifully playing the part of the mutant in question) exaggeratedly stomped around the gurneys after a gleefully darting Michael. When she attempted to peek out from under it, she’d found a report that James had been working on left open on his terminal, and like most curious children...well...

Of course, that was how James found her; when he later relayed all this to Cliff after rounding up both children and depositing them back in the officer’s custody. From now on he’d have to be more careful about keeping the medical records hidden from little prying eyes and fingers.

It wasn’t until later that night, however, after they were back home in their apartment, that she asked him.

“Daddy, what’s a peri-fire?”

The question didn’t initially surprise him. The kids were always asking their dads about a lot of the more difficult words that made up day-to-day Vault life. Michael even still called the Atrium the ‘at-rum’ sometimes.

“‘Peri-fire’…?”

“Yeah, peri-fire. What is it?”

Cliff’s brow furrowed a bit, as he tried to breach the connection between her still developing language skills and the various Vault features to figure out exactly what she was referring to.

“...where’d you hear that word?”

“I didn’t hear it. I read it on Unca James’ term’nal today. Also, what’s ‘pur-eye-tee’?”

The confusion evaporated as quickly as it came when Cliff realized that Peri had been looking at the notes for James’ small-scale Project Purity experiments. The doctor had started them up again in his free time once the kids were a bit less dependent on them.

...Hard to believe it was easier to hide them from an adult medical intern than from a four year old.

“I think you mean ‘purifier’ and ‘purity’, kiddo.”

“Ohhhhh. Well what are those, then?”

A quick panicked look was exchanged with James, who was sitting across the room (just as frozen with terror) as he tried to think on the fly.

“Uh. It’s. It’s-...u-uh.”

Inspiration struck just as Cliff was about to pass the buck on to the physician, and he scooped the young girl up onto his lap; quickly hiding the panic under a (admittedly, strained) grin.

“Well, kiddo, purity is...it’s something good. See, when something’s been purified, it means something bad has been made good again. And a purifier is uh, someone or something that does that for them.”

She frowned up at him suspiciously. Just because she was four didn’t mean she was an idiot.

And it didn’t help that he was shit at lying under pressure.

Still, he kept reaching. “You know I was going to wait ‘til you were older to tell you these stories, because your Uncle James said it’d give you guys nightmares, but I think you’re ready. See, long before you and Michael were born, there was this special order of strong warriors - knights in some real fancy armor and with real powerful weapons, gifts they’d been given from an ancient civilization. And with these gifts, they were trying to purify the land for people to live better.”

“But why?”

“Because there was this big army of ogres, y’see. Nine feet tall, green-skinned, stronger than ten men, and the meanest sons’ve bitches you’d ever meet-”

A stern voice came from across the room. “Cliff!”

“Right right, sorry. Point is, they were bad guys. They snatched people up - men, women, kids like you, it didn’t matter to them - and the ones they didn’t eat? They’d turn ‘em into ogres like them, too.”

Now he had her rapt attention, those eyes going big as plates with wonder and horror. Stories full of monsters and cannibalism always tended to be a big hit at this age.

“Ewwwww! How’d they do that?”

“A magic potion. They had big cauldrons of it, this gooey and glowing green stuff, and they would put those people they kidnapped into the cauldrons. And when they fished them out again, they’d be big ugly ogres too. And so it was the knights’ job to save people from that.”

“Wow…I wanna be a peri-fire knight! Can I, daddy, please?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, I think you’re a little small for the armor. Maybe in a few years after you’ve done some growing! Unless you wanna speed up the process with some ogre potion!”

“Gross! I don’t wanna be green!”

He laughed at that. It had been quite the gamble, turning Project Purity and Cliff and James’ experiences into bedtime adventure stories, but thankfully it had paid off. James even applauded the Vault officer for his special form of...creativity managing to save both their skins. And hey, at least it beat some of the more bland fairy tales most kids heard from their parents.

Apart from-...well, she continued to have difficulties with pronouncing ‘purifier’ and still frequently called it ‘peri-fire’. And what with her wanting to be one, and referring to herself as one…

...well, as with most nicknames, it got shortened over time. Thus. Peri.

And now it was practically all she answered to. In fact, he was pretty sure even her teacher, Mr. Brotch, had started having to call her that when she started school just a little while ago-

_“_ **_Nereus!_ ** _”_

The sharp tone of the Overseer, coming from his Pip-Boy, jarred him out of his reverie.

Fumbling a bit with the buttons, Cliff finally managed to key in to respond. “Almodovar? What’s wrong?”

_“...first of all, I’ll thank you to remember that it’s *Overseer* when you are on the clock, Nereus. Secondly, as soon as your shift is finished, you and Doctor Harmon are to meet me in the Vault classroom. Do I make myself clear, Officer?”_

His eyes glanced over quick to the glowing clock in the corner of the device display - his shift would be over in half an hour.

“...yessir, Overseer. Understood.”

_“Good.”_

The click that signaled the connection being severed seemed to echo too loudly in the confined hallway.

Shit. What was so urgent that it required both him and Harmon to be present?

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

Apparently whatever it was, he’d given James the exact same message when Cliff swung by the clinic and Jonas told him that the doc had already left for the Vault classroom.

The officer hadn’t even had time to change out of his security uniform; which got a curious look from Mr. Brotch when he joined the other men in the cramped classroom. But maybe that was the way he had burst in, panting slightly from his rush to get there as soon as he’d left the clinic.

Christ, he swore all these ‘vague but urgent’ orders were going to give him a heart attack before he hit 50.

“Uh...glad to have you with us, Officer Nereus.”

The Overseer was standing, arms crossed stiffly; while James had somehow managed to squeeze his tall frame into one of the desks across from Mr. Brotch’s own.

Cliff opted to sit too; however rather than try and fight with forcing the bulky riot gear into the small space he chose instead to perch on top of the desk next to the one James occupied. Despite the stern glare that the Overseer shoots him for it.

He looked to James for a possible answer as to why they were there, but the physician just shrugs and shakes his head slightly; clearly just as perplexed as he was.

“Now that Officer Nereus has finally decided to join us - what was it you needed to speak to us about, Edwin? Surely Amata has done nothing warranting some disciplinary action.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that. Unlike some of my more...repeat offense troublemakers, Amata is basically a model student. Fully on track, hitting all milestones - excelling in them, really, given her young age. If only I had one like her in every one of the classes I teach.”

Cliff rolls his eyes so hard over the smug smile that the Overseer wears due to Mr. Brotch’s praising of his child it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of his head. Sure, Amata might have been a bright kid, even he would admit that, but god knows Almodovar was going to take all the credit for it rather than let her stand on her own merits.

“But...there is definitely something I’m concerned about…”

And just as quickly as the smug look appeared, it vanishes.

“What?”

“Well, in the afternoons before being dismissed, the kids get some free time - to draw, to read, get a head start on their homework...or in the case of young Mister DeLoria and his friends, attempt to cause as much havoc as possible before they go home to their parents. Things like that.”

Mr. Brotch opens a drawer in his desk, removing several carefully folded papers before passing them around to each of the fathers.

Unfolding his, Cliff is greeted with a crayon drawing of a massive green monster fighting a gray figure that had to be some kind of knight. He doesn’t need to see the still somewhat crooked letters to know who drew it, but he smiles as he reads the name anyway.

_‘Peri - Age 6’_

James leans over, peering at the drawing. “...quite dramatic. I like the cauldron full of dismembered limbs there.”

The one the doctor held appeared to be a typical drawing of the sky - puffy white clouds and lots of bright blue. In the middle of it all was a trio of smiling, female-looking figures in white outfits. They seemed quite happy together, whatever they were.

_‘Michael - Age 5’_

Neither of them could see the one the Overseer had, though, as he merely tucked the paper out of sight, not even bothering to glance at it.

“You brought all of us in here to discuss children’s drawings, Mr. Brotch?”

“Mm, well...not quite. Doctor Harmon, Officer Nereus, as I’m sure you know, Peri and Michael tend to be inseparable. And as of late, they’ve started including Amata in their activities as well - no doubt due in part to Peri wanting to keep her safe from Butch’s bullying tactics; since he tries to do the same to Michael.”

James stiffened slightly in his seat, as this was clearly news to him. “...I didn’t-...I heard nothing about this.”

“Well, maybe that’s because Peri thinks she can handle him and looking out for Michael by herself. I’ve had to separate them both on more than one occasion. And though I don’t *approve* of the usage of violence to stop violence, I won’t deny that girl really holds her own against him like none of the other kids manage to do.”

Now it was Cliff’s turn to look smug. Although he could tell James was taking the news that Michael was being bullied in school pretty hard. Not that he could blame him; after all, they’d done their best to try and make sure the Vault was the safest place for the kids to grow up in.

But some threats still couldn’t be locked out, no matter how hard they tried.

“Normally I wouldn’t bring it up, I’d prefer to address the troublemaking child and their parent directly, but I’ve been trying to get a conference going with Ms. DeLoria for several weeks now, and so far it’s been...well, unsuccessful.”

That was a polite way of putting it. If Mr. Brotch was sending notes home to Ellen DeLoria, chances are that they were being outright ignored, or were the result of more than one screaming fit that her neighbors had complained to the Vault security about.

“Anyway, the kids were having their free time, when Butch, of course, decided to start an altercation with Michael. Surprisingly, though, *Amata* was the one who intervened first to stop it, much to my surprise.”

The Overseer sputtered, and Cliff had never seen someone look more insulted in his life. The other man might as well have just slapped him across the face.

“What?! My Amata would never do something so...so barbaric!”

Mr. Brotch merely shrugged. “I mean, I was just as shocked as you are. Luckily I think Butch was as well, which is what gave Peri time to put herself between them before he could hurt her. I would have considered it a relatively normal day otherwise, but…”

Here, though, the young teacher leaned forward a bit, steepling his fingers as his brow furrowed thoughtfully.

“Overseer, the reason I asked to speak with the three of you isn’t because she got into a fight with Butch DeLoria...that is something I can usually handle on my own. In actuality, it was because Amata started asking me questions after class was properly dismissed. Questions I can only assume she hasn’t brought up with you.”

“...what...kind of questions?”

“She mostly asked about what happens to people after they’ve died, what heaven is apparently like...all thanks to Michael’s drawing there.”

It’s then James’ eyes widened with realization. “...They’re angels. He-...he drew his mother.”

Regarding the drawing again with more interest now, Cliff could see the fainter yellow shapes of halos and the wings he’d mistaken for more clouds and what he’d thought was an attempt at sunlight.

Mr. Brotch nods. “Yes...his and Peri’s, I believe. And then after being rescued from Butch’s torment, he added in a third one, for Amata’s. That’s the real reason why I called you in here - I didn’t think it was my place to explain topics that...”

He pauses a moment as he searches for the right word.

“... _Significant._ At least not at their age. Nevermind the potential differences in personal beliefs.”

If Cliff was surprised by this level of insight from a five year old, James was absolutely overwhelmed by it. It’s subtle, very subtle, but he could see the faint shake in the physician’s shoulders. Even though he managed to keep his voice even in that clinically professional way of his.

“God...I haven’t really told him what happened to his mother...I-...I didn’t even realize Michael might have picked up on some of the things from the Bible. I thought he’d just considered it another book for us to work on with his reading.”

The security officer shifted a bit awkwardly on his desk perch. “We figured it wouldn’t do any harm if we stuck to the more general lessons in there. ‘Do unto others’ and all that, y’know? But Michael’s smarter than a lot’ve us give him credit for. Observes a lot of things. I guess he figured...Amata was in the same boat as him and Peri, and-”

“And he didn’t want her to feel left out.” There’s a ghost of a melancholy smile that tugs at the corner of James’ mouth as he finishes the sentence. “Trying to help, in his own...unique way.”

“Yeah.”

It was a kind gesture, if in a bittersweet kind of way, and if that was the only reason they’d been called in...Cliff tried not to appear visibly relieved. He really needed to stop expecting the worst case scenario all the time, but clearly some habits died hard.

“Well...I guess I’ll talk to Peri about her getting into spats with Butch, but I can’t make any promises. She’s a good kid, but stubborn as hell.”

That actually made Mr. Brotch crack a rare smile of his own. “Oh I know. Believe me, I know. I suppose you can take comfort in the fact she’s at least doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.”

The mood had seemingly lifted with that, but there was still something definitely...cold. In the Overseer’s tone as he addressed the teacher once again.

“I can assure you, I will speak to Amata and try and...explain some things to her. So that this sort of thing need not happen again. Now, is that all?”

“Of course, Overseer. Like I said, the kids aren’t really in trouble. I just...figured you’d prefer to handle this kind of discussion yourselves, since it seems to be something of a personal matter. I’m sorry for any alarm it might have caused-”

The Overseer raises a hand, cutting him off sharply. “You are not to blame, Edwin. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Now if you’ll excuse me...”

James might not have caught it, but Cliff did not like the hard look the Overseer shot the two of them - or how it lingered in particular on the doctor.

But just as the three of them left the classroom, and Cliff was sure they’d gotten off the hook; the Overseer called after the security officer’s retreating back.

“Nereus. I want you to cover tonight’s watch shift with Officer Gomez tonight.”

Cliff exhaled a irritated breath through his nose before he turned around. _Fuck._ So much for that hope.

“Oh come on, Almodovar, I *just* got off my reactor shift, now you want me on graveyard too?”

“I told you. It is **_Overseer_ ** while you are on duty. And yes. Perhaps it will give you some time to...reflect...on what kind of things you’re doing at home. I expect to see you at 9 PM sharp. Do I make myself clear?”

For several moments, Cliff said nothing; and the two of them merely stared each other down.

“I SAID, do I make myself clear, Officer Nereus?”

He swallows the string of cusswords he would have loved to spit at the man, managing to put on his most embittered smile instead.

“...yes, _Overseer_.”

“Good.”

James tries to be sympathetic; resting a hand on the security officer’s shoulder as the smile drops and Cliff glares at the Overseer disappearing just around the corner.

“It’s alright, look, I’ll make sure the kids are taken care of-”

He snaps. “Yeah, because god forbid the goddamn precious irreplaceable Vault doc be the one forced to pull double-duty. Wouldn’t want you to be sleep-deprived in case someone happens to stub their fucking toe down here. Y’know, when your kid’s the one who pissed him the fuck off in the first place.”

As soon as the words came out, Cliff closed his eyes with a wince, immediately regretting them. He didn’t have to see so much as hear the hurt tone as the hand is quickly withdrawn from his shoulder.

“...I-...right, sorry.”

“...shit. Look, Harmon, you know I didn’t mean that-”

“No, no, you...you have every right to be angry. I understand. I’ll-...I’ll still make sure Peri’s looked after when you start your shift tonight.”

Cliff opens his mouth, to try and make a better apology.

“Harmon, wait. James!”

But the physician was already turning away from him and heading back towards the infirmary.

He slumps slightly, letting out another exasperated sort of noise as he drags his hands down his face.

“Shit.”

This was not going to be a good day.

= o = o = o = o = o = o =

Night shift. 9 PM to 5 AM.

If the regular patrols were boring, night shift duty was fucking *insufferable.*

Eight hours. Eight painfully LONG hours of staring at nothing. The Vault residents were like robots (literally, if you counted Andy as a resident), programmed to follow routine and schedule. Even if someone wanted to break the curfew they didn’t actually have, how could they? It’s not like they could sneak out anywhere. Privacy was hard to come by for a place so cramped.

And again, that didn’t even take into account the hundreds of omniscient mechanical eyes stashed in almost every conceivable corner.

And yet. God, Cliff actually wished someone would try and do something. A wild teenage kegger in the hydroponics wing. A pint-sized maniac terrorizing the diner. A giant mutant bacteria crawling out of the toilets. Something. Anything.

He stared with glazed eyes at the bank of black and white surveillance screens that took up an entire wall of the security office.

_Anything_ to break up this godforsaken monotony.

Of all the punishments the Overseer could dump on him, this was definitely one of the ones up on the list. Only thing worse might be patrolling the sewage and water treatment wing of the Vault.

Just because the kids tried to be *nice* to Amata Almodovar. And because the only real doctor that 101 had was clearly more valuable than a lowly security guard, so obviously he couldn’t risk being punished, oh noooo, of course n-

Cliff pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a breath to try and calm himself.

He was letting his irritation get the better of him again. He still felt bad for snapping at James earlier. It was this damned Vault, he swore, being cooped up down here was making him stir-crazy and wearing on his nerves.

“Come on, don’t tell me this is jammed again…”

He spun around in the swivel chair he was seated on with a complaint of ancient metal. On the plus side, at least misery loved company, which meant he wasn’t alone in this mess. Officer Gomez also sat nearby, idly cleaning one of the guns from the armory locker.

...or trying to, anyway, as he all but had to pry out a firing pin from the disuse-stiffened, neglected body of the combat shotgun he was dismantling.

The effort of finally getting it to come loose almost caused the other officer to fall backwards out of his own chair with a yelp. “Agh! Finally…” He squinted and peered into the gun’s innards. “Jeez, when’s the last time anyone actually maintained these?”

“Judging by the crime records of the past 200 years? Probably not since the Vault was built. Though I’m kind of surprised to find you doing that, isn’t Hannon usually the one on office watch this shift?”

“Paulie Sr.? Yeah, usually, but his kid’s had the flu the past couple days. I don’t mind it, though. Freddie’s been kind of...off lately. Hasn’t been sleeping. Been trying to use night shift patrols to see if I can’t carry him around and tire him out. Doesn’t seem to be working too well, though - I mean, he does get tired, sure, but he still can’t seem to sleep...I don’t know what it is. And Pepper’s really starting to worry...”

Cliff frowned. He didn’t want to mention it, but with those kinds of symptoms, he didn’t think he had a choice.

“...Could be early-onset VDS. Harmon’s said he’s had a few cases of it cropping up as of late. You want me to try and talk to him about getting you an appointment for Freddie? Couldn’t hurt.”

“Could you? I know you’re in good with the doc and all, but I didn’t want to bother him in case it was something less serious…”

“Ah, it’s no problem at all, and besides, it’ll give him an excuse to avoid Ellen DeLoria if the flu season really is starting up. Y’know she’ll come in as soon as she has the slightest sniffle.”

Gomez shot him a relieved smile. Despite the attempts at staying upbeat, it was clear the stress was taking its toll on the father; shadows visible under his eyes even in the low light of the office. “Thanks, Cliff.”

The other security officer returned the smile before he turned back towards the monitors. At least Gomez was one of the friendlier folks down here. “Hey, if you really want to thank me, have Pepper get me some of that lemon pound cake she made that won the Bake-Off last...month...”

He trailed off, as something on one of the camera feeds caught his attention. No, he was just tired and imagining things, there’s no way he just saw-...

His tawny eyes suddenly widened.

Oh no.

Though he stood up perhaps a little too abruptly, Cliff was careful to keep the offending screen in question hidden behind him as he jerked a thumb towards the office door.

“Hey, so, uh, I think I saw a radroach down the hall near the Overseer’s office. Y’know they like to get in through the tunnels there. I’ll just go handle it and be right back.”

Officer Gomez blinked at him, a bit surprised. “You sure?”

“Oh yeah, it’s just a radroach, a few whacks and they’re out. Besides, gives me an excuse to...y’know, stretch my legs and all.”

He tried to seem nonchalant; tried to throw off any semblance of suspicion, but if anything; that just made Gomez regard him *with* suspicion.

“Uh...alright. Just radio in if it proves to be a bigger problem.”

“Of course. So...be right back!”

Cliff gave a ridiculous little sort of wave, backing away towards the door before he all but broke into a sprint for the Overseer’s office in question.

There’s a bit of fumbling with his passkey to get the door open but as soon as he does, he released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding; in the form of a hissing of furious words from between clenched teeth as both hands tightly gripped the doorframe.

_“Harmon what in the everloving goddamn fucking shitchrist are you doing in here.”_

The physician raised his head from where it'd been buried in his arms on the terminal control, and regarded Cliff with a bleary sort of expression; eyes watery and red-rimmed.

“...wow. Alphonse really needs to step up his security, if even you got in here.”

“I AM the security, goddamn it, and you already know that, and that still doesn’t fucking explain-”

He attempted to step closer, but the officer’s boot came down on something with a distinctly glass clank, which caused him to look down. As he picked it up off the floor, Cliff recognized the label of the half-emptied bottle of scotch he’d given the doctor just last Christmas.

He stared at it for a full moment in disbelief before he jerked his gaze back to James. “Are you _drunk?!_ ”

But James wasn’t really listening; he seemed more interested in scrolling through whatever files he’d managed to open on the Overseer’s terminal. “Honestly, he’s so transparent...made the password his daughter’s name, really now, what kind of idiot does he take me for…? Lot of rot he’s written here, too...paranoid bastard...”

“Okay, look, I don’t know if this is just because of the thing with Brotch earlier, but if you get caught in here, Almodovar will have your ass kicked out of the Vault so fast-”

“Good!” The sudden way he spit the word took Cliff aback a bit. “I hope he does! You were right, they don’t actually need me here. Another doctor’s easy enough to find...I should at least be going back out there. Doing real good. Working on her legacy...”

The physician’s face took on a more faraway expression, eyes shining with fresh tears, and only then did Cliff realize he’d been crying.

“I shouldn’t have just abandoned Project Purity...the work we did...the work *she* did...we poured our sweat, blood, and tears into it...and I just let her die...let it die…”

He suddenly slumped from the seat to the floor and covered his eyes with one hand; jaw tight as he tried to stifle his sobs.

Cliff cast a nervous look back over his shoulder and down the hallway, which was still thankfully deserted. At least for the moment. He needed to get James out of here. If anyone found them...the risk of discovery was bad enough, but when he considered the distraught man’s words...

...this was bad. This was very bad.

He approached carefully, as if the doctor were a radscorpion with its tail up and poised to strike; rather than a drunkenly grieving man. “James. Listen to me. First of all, you’re CLEARLY more plastered than I thought if you’re admitting I’m right about anything. Second, as a doctor, you are quite replaceable. Jonas could do your job. Even Andy could do your job with the right programming. Not very well, I admit; machine’s dumber’n a bag of molerats, but if we’re talking purely theoretically, he could-”

James’ head snapped up, and he gave the officer a morose glare. “If you are trying to make me feel better, Nereus, you are doing a damn piss-poor job of it-!”

“Let me finish! Anyway...”

Cliff knelt down, and gripped James’ shoulder with one hand; a mirror of the same attempt at a comforting gesture he’d rebuffed earlier. He took a deep breath, and made sure to speak slowly and clearly; his eyes trained on the physician’s.

“As a doctor, yes. You are replaceable. But as a father, you are **_not._ ** ”

This statement clearly wasn’t being steered in a direction he expected, and so James just stared at him with a sad little hiccup; blinking owlishly.

“I get it. Really, I do. I may not have loved Catherine like you did, but I cared about her too. I believed in the work you, her, all’ve of us were doing. But as important as Project Purity was, or is, or whatever the hell...those kids sleeping back in our apartment are far more important than *anything* we’ve ever done in our entire lives.”

He tightened his grip, and gave the other a slight shake as he continued. “Think about Michael, James. As much as it hurts you to miss her, leaving him behind will hurt far more. For both’ve you. Even if Project Purity is a noble one...what d’you think Catherine would say if she knew you’d abandoned your only child, just to chase a dream?”

James dragged a hand down his unshaven face as Cliff’s words slowly permeated the haze of alcohol that still clung to his senses.

“I-...you’re right. God, you’re right.”

“I want that immortalized, for the record, you admitting that I’m actually right.”

“I can’t believe I could be so selfish...Catherine would be ashamed of me. And Michael-...Michael’s all I’ve got left of her...to think I could just give that up...god, I’ve been such an _idiot…”_

This looked like it was about to bring a fresh wave of emotion over the physician as he trembled, and Cliff (never great at comforting people to begin with) attempted gingerly to keep him calm. He still had to get them both out of the office before they were discovered, after all.

“Shh, shh...hey, look, it’s alright. You’re still here. You’ve still got plenty of good work to do here in the Vault. We can talk about this more later, okay? C’mon.”

With more strength than seemed possible in the shorter man, Cliff hauled James upright; his shoulder braced against him for support as he led him back towards the door.

A thought suddenly hit him as the door swooped shut and the officer locked it back down with his key. “...wait, did you leave the kids *alone* to come on this little bender of yours?”

“Oh, relax, I made sure the doors were secure before I left...”

“...caught that radroach, did you, Nereus?”

It took some difficulty; given that James still leaned heavily on him, but Cliff wheeled around as quick as he was able to see Officer Gomez, arms crossed, as he regarded them both sternly.

“Fuck. Look, I can explain this-...okay, maybe I can’t. But, uh-...I mean-...”

He just gave up trying. They were caught. There was no way around that.

“...okay, fine, you caught us, but do tell me, what gave it away?”

“Well, even if you weren’t a really bad liar, Cliff, I do still have working eyes. And it was pretty easy to see you both on the security feed.“

In all honesty, though Cliff did not say it aloud, he’d hoped that Gomez would have been too busy with his firearm maintenance to bother to look. A rather desperate thought, all things considered.

The stern expression softened to something more like concern. “You know how bad this looks, right? Breaking into the Overseer’s office? What am I supposed to think?”

“I know, I know. But look-...he didn’t damage anything, or get into anything important, just-...”

James was slipping in and out of it and seemed barely aware of either of the other men, but Cliff still dropped his voice, just in case.

“Look, he’s having a rough time. Some shit went down earlier today, brought up memories of Catherine’s death and…and he wanted to go back out. Can you really blame him? I can’t.”

Officer Gomez sighed and looked away.

“No...technically I can’t. I know I’d be destroyed if anything happened to Pepper…but you know how things are down here. No one is supposed to leave. I’d say no one ever enters, either, but...well, I’m standing in front of two of the biggest exceptions to that rule.”

“Don’t worry. Doc and I, we had a talk, and I’m gonna talk some more sense into him when he’s sober. This won’t happen again. Just-...can we let this go? This one time?”

He hesitated. “Cliff, I don’t know-...”

“Look, if the Overseer kicks me out, that’s not a problem. Frankly, it’s kind of insufferable down here - no offense, but he’s a fucking ass, and we all know it.”

There was no rebuttal to this, as much as some of the other Vault dwellers drank the metaphorical Kool-Aid he was serving up to them; few would actually disagree that the Overseer had a certain tyrannical way of running things.

“But if he kicks the doc out, who’s going to look out for the kids? I don’t just mean Peri and Michael, what about Freddie? What about Hannon’s son, Paul Junior, in case that flu turns into something worse? Jonas is a great goddamn medic, sure, but he’s not got Harmon’s level of experience. He’s irreplaceable.”

Gomez finally just raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, you’ve made your point. Just...get him out of here.”

Cliff smiled in relief. “Thanks. I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just make sure the doc’s okay, for everyone’s sake, and we’ll call it even. The lemon pound cake is still negotiable, though.”

“Of course.” With a slight grunt of exertion, Cliff secured his grip more on the physician, and half-lead, half-dragged him back towards their shared apartment.

He just thanked God the kids were heavy sleepers, as he nearly overturned a chair on his way through the tiny living space.

“C’mon, you need to sleep this off. Fuck me, this is the last time you’re getting liquor for Christmas, y’know how much dead weight you are?”

With some minor difficulty, he eventually had the physician in his room and at least somewhat back in his bed.

He’d never really noticed it before, but as he was trying to get James placed more on the mattress and less in danger of falling onto the metal floor and injuring something; the room seemed a lot more...sparse since Michael and Peri took the other bedroom across the hall.

(Once the two were old enough to sleep on their own, the two fathers had agreed to the rearranging - and that left Cliff on the couch most of the time, which was murder on his back, but it was still far better than some of the places he’d had to sleep in before.)

Apart from the usual basic amenities, there wasn’t much save an old framed picture of Catherine on the bedside table.

A picture, he noticed, that had been placed face down.

Somehow, that struck Cliff even harder than seeing his close friend openly weeping over her.

James’ head lolled as he rolled towards the officer, a rather weak smile curling his face.

“You called me irreplaceable.”

“What?” Cliff jumped slightly, surprised he was even still conscious.

“Back there. When you told Officer Gomez that to get us out of trouble…you said I was irreplaceable as a doctor after all...”

Cliff rolled his eyes and all but tossed the sheet over the doctor. “Don’t read too much into it, Harmon, I’d just prefer not to have to fill out the shitton of paperwork that reporting you would require. I can only imagine Gomez feels the same. Now go the fuck to sleep, I’m pretty sure you just used up your one ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

He had just hit the lights before James’ voice drifted towards him again.

“I’m sorry. I just...I still miss her a great deal.”

Cliff paused at the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Yeah. I do too. Night, Harmon.”

The physician was out not moments after that. And much as Cliff’s exhausted body screamed at him to do the same once he managed to shed his gear; he found he could only stare up at the ceiling when he stretched out across the antique sofa.

As his eyes burned and his vision blurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am well aware this is over a year since the last update, but given the length of this chapter, perhaps that will make up for it slightly.
> 
> If I explained all the problems I went through that CAUSED this chapter to be delayed by a year, tbh, I would run out of character space here. Suffice to say, we can blame horses, Ukranians, the dragon economy, and Overwatch for most of it.
> 
> ...I really need to stop using that to explain my slow updates. But, as I am desperately trying to force my life onto some form of structure/schedule, perhaps it will not be a year until the next one!
> 
> At least, god I hope not.


End file.
